Time And A Dream

Who could know
all those years ago
that we’d still be friends.
And in touch,
wishing to touch each other
like we did then,
and like we never did then.

Forty going on seventeen,
wondering what it might mean
to be together for a night, a month, decades,
touching hearts and other parts,
reliving youth
with mature understanding and experience.
But when?

We talk and write
well into the night
of what we’d do with time and opportunity.
You and me, we both agree,
would love like there’s no tomorrow.
But time and distance conspire against us;
so for now we’re a dream that doesn’t end.